


The Second Cambridge Confession

by sceeety



Category: Maurice (1987), Maurice - E. M. Forster
Genre: Cambridge, Clive Durham's Dorm room, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Summer Term Romance, maurice - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24135856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sceeety/pseuds/sceeety
Summary: Let's pretend that Maurice's reciprocation of Clive's confession lasts a little longer than in the book and movie shall we?A.K.A: What happens after Maurice shimmies up Clive's drainpipe in the middle of the night at Cambridge.
Relationships: Clive Durham/Maurice Hall
Comments: 4
Kudos: 84





	The Second Cambridge Confession

**Author's Note:**

> I know in the book that the events in the book and film are much more spaced out than this but let's pretend for this fics' sake that Clive's confession, Maurice's visit to Clive's room, Clive saying grace and Maurice going to Clive's window all happened in the same day.  
> I really wanted to give these two the start to their doomed relationship they deserved!

It was hours after Maurice had visited him in his room, desperately trying to bring Clive around to the meaningless idea that despite this hopeless predicament, they could still be as close as they had been. Clive knew, as he undressed for the night that he had been right to dismiss this foolishness. There was no way in Hell that he could ever be friends with Maurice Hall again: It pained his heart too greatly, made him visibly cringe to even make as much as eye contact with him when saying grace at dinner. No. He would keep his head down and pass his bar examination, begin his career and spend the rest of his life praying that Hall would not change his thoroughly good nature and bring a trial against him for attempted indecency. 

Clive shivered at the thought and drew the duvet more tightly around himself, his eyes wide. He knew there wasn't a chance he would get as much as a wink of sleep tonight, the image of Maurice's face; eyes wide in shock as that beastly word 'Rubbish' hit Clive over the head like a sack of bricks. Over and Over and Over, never getting less painful each time. He remembered how much that moment had struck him, how Maurice's voice had rang in his ears like a shell and Clive  _ had _ been shell-shocked, his feet going into auto pilot to take him away from the situation, slapping against the cobbled path of cloisters and away from Chapman and the rest, away from the normal young men, away from Maurice. 

The tears hit Clive, and he spilled like he had never spilled; floods and floods clouded his vision and soon he began to wail as softly as he could.

'Oh how I wish for Death.' He yelled into his pillow, drawing his knees up and around the only thing stopping the Bedder from coming in to see if he was alright. Clive felt the pillow dampen beneath him from the tears and pulled it even closer so that all he was breathing in was the scent of fresh linen that he usually found so calming, but now all he wanted to do was suffocate in it and die. 

Clive was so deeply buried within the pillow that he hadn’t noticed the open window being pushed even further out to allow a straining blonde figure to enter the room. Maurice pulled himself up onto the window ledge, his muscles aching from climbing up the drain pipe and swung his body as a gymnast used a vault-horse, so that his legs were dangling off the ledge into the cool of Clive's bedroom. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and jumped down, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, desperately seeking out the sleeping form of Clive Durham. When no such form could be found, Maurice stumbled forward, groping for the dark outline of the bed and sat down on what he thought was a pile of bedding, only for the pile to begin to writhe and squirm underneath him. A force thrust from beneath and all of a sudden, Maurice went flying off the bed, stunned, and landed on the carpet. 

'I say what the-' Clive threw the last blanket off and sat bolt upright, gasping for air and groping frantically for the switch to his bedside lamp. The yellow light flickered on, revealing a very surprised heap of Maurice Hall on the carpet. 

Both men were too full of adrenaline to speak but when the moment passed, it was Maurice who spoke first, standing up slowly and rubbing his backside where he had landed all too harshly. 

'Talk about things that go bump in the night, say Clive?!' He looked to where he thought the other was, waiting for the purple and green spots to clear from his vision where the light had blinded him. 

‘Maurice…’ 

Clive had the covers pulled up to his neck, his blue eyes managed to look angry and confused yet soft all at once as he stared into Maurice’s own. 

‘I’m terribly sorry, I must’ve given you an awful shock suffocating you like that.’ He thought about perching on the edge of Clive’s bed but then thought better of it and instead, settled awkwardly into the large wicker chair, behind where he had landed. 

Clive’s gaze didn’t falter.

‘Clive are you-’

‘Maurice what are you doing here.’

Maurice shut his mouth immediately and shifted in his seat. Clive’s question and steely glare made him feel uncomfortable and stupid. What had he been  _ thinking _ ? That he could just come in here and reveal his true feelings after how blunt he had been earlier? 

‘I... er…’ 

A terrible silence followed, chilling the room further yet somehow it made Maurice begin to sweat under his collar. As awkward as it felt whenever Clive teased Maurice about his immature beliefs in the past, this new silence felt a thousand times worse.

Maurice sighed and collected himself, standing up and walking towards the dark-oaken door as he said,

‘Durham just walk with me will you, I’ve got so much I want to say and I don’t think I can bear to sit still whilst I say it. We can go out of Trinity and around the courtyard, just…’ He paused to take a deep breath. ‘Look. You don’t have to say  _ anything _ , just  _ please _ come with me.’ 

Maurice opened the door and looked imploringly at the eyes that glittered back at him under the bright light. 

Silence again, but to Maurice it felt different this time as he wasn’t the one pressured to respond.

Clive sighed, closing his eyes dramatically as he did so which allowed Maurice to let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. 

‘Fine. J-just turn around, will you. I need to dress.’ 

Maurice hoped to the God he no longer believed in that Durham couldn’t see him blush in the dark... 

Clive watched as Maurice smiled that dopey smile and turned around, secretly glad that the initial tension had vanished. He silently slipped out of the un-made bed and dressed himself as fast as he could, swishing his neatly hung clothes from their various hangers and finally straightening his mortar board in the mirror.

‘This better be a damned good reason to come at this ridiculous hour, Hall.’ He said, trying to sound stern as he stormed past Maurice, leading the way out of the room and down the large staircase leading to the Trinity college cloisters. 

Clive was conscious of the small but present distance between the two of them as they walked past the sleeping guard and out into the open courtyard, taking care to keep it that way. When they were safely out of earshot of any other night owls studying in their dorms on that warm summer night, Clive spoke first,

‘So what is it you wanted to say?’ 

Maurice stopped, leaning against a nearby column to face Clive. He looked so earnest and beautiful in the rising moonlight that Clive felt suddenly very faint and scared, scared that what would come out of Maurice’s mouth would hurt him even more than the last time they had spoken in the same courtyard. 

‘Clive I’ve been truly beastly to you.’

‘Maurice…’

‘No, no just listen, I have. I said those things from an ignorant’s mindset, speaking from the point of view of say Dr Barry, or my late father or… The Dean.’ He looked away nervously as if the man himself was nearby, taking a deep breath before continuing.

‘I mean… I spoke without thinking about what I truly felt.’ 

Clive felt his whole body jolt as if a wire had been stuck into his head.

Maurice swallowed and clenched his hands into fists.

‘W-what i’m trying to say is…’

Maurice re-opened his eyes, staring into Clive’s own deep blue pools and suddenly everything melted away; time, family, society even Cambridge itself and Maurice felt as if it were just him and Clive, his hair looking blue in the silvery stream of moonlight that shone on them both.

‘Clive I love you. I really really do. Not out of pity, or some sick sick game to get in with gentlemen of a higher rank than my own. I’m the same as you, whatever that means, but I love you and I understand if you no longer love me, but I just wanted to tell you-’

Without thinking, Clive reached up and silenced Maurice by pressing his own lips to his, feeling the softness of them for barely a moment before pulling away. 

It was barely even a kiss but in that instant everything Maurice had ever wanted was forgotten and he felt  _ full _ . 

‘Oh you silly thing, you stupid, stupid, wonderful thing.’ Clive was muttering, and to Maurice’s horror, his eyes were brimming with tears that spilled down his ivory cheeks.

‘Clive, no no no don’t cry, oh Clive!’ He pulled the other in close, and held him tightly as he felt Durham’s pliant frame shake against his own, followed by the vibrations of little, barely-audible snuffles into his right shoulder. They stayed like that for a moment before Clive untangled himself, his eyes red and puffy. 

‘Clive-’

‘I’m alright, I’m quite alright.’ He said and smiled wryly before letting out a shaky breath.

‘Well  _ that _ wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for, you big baby!’ Maurice laughed, punching Clive lightly on the shoulder as he had done with the boxing glove, before wrapping Durham deftly in the carpet in a term long gone. 

‘How simple things had been back then…’ Maurice thought to himself, watching as Clive 'harrumphed’ in protest and rubbed his shoulder. 

He met Clive’s eyes and slipped his hand tentatively into the other’s, noticing how he flinched slightly before melting back into a palm-kiss. 

‘Oh do let’s go back to your room Clive. I can’t bear the thought that someone should see us out here.’ Maurice said, allowing himself to to be pulled by Clive back the way they came across the courtyard and toward Trinity’s guarded door. 

‘My my, aren’t we forward Hall!’ Whispered Clive, as they passed the snoring guard, their hands still joined together as they half-walked, half-ran back to the stairwell door.

‘Oh be quiet!’ Maurice snorted, blushing softly also...

*

‘You do realise that you will have to leave at some point, right?’

Clive said softly, tucking a stray lock of golden hair behind Maurice’s ear.

They were on Clive’s bed, Clive with his back against the headboard with his legs in a split V to allow Maurice to lie back against his chest whilst Clive played with his hair, gently tugging and stroking each part before finishing by tracing the swirl at the back, only to begin the pattern all over again. Maurice was running his hand slowly up and down Clive's calf, feeling the smooth fabric of his trousers. He stopped the movement as Clive said this and reached around with his hand to flick Clive deftly on the forehead.

‘Ow!’ Clive exclaimed and wrapped his arms around Maurice’s middle, like he was a giant stuffed bear, and leaned them both forwards, so his cheek rested on the curve of Maurice’s spine.

‘I’m sorry, I'm just stating the sad but obvious…’ he mumbled into his linen shirt, secretly breathing in Maurice’s scent. Maurice smelled of expensive cologne with the faintest hint of lemon drops, something he had noticed back when he had first begun to fall for Maurice

Hall. 

‘Well don’t.’ said Maurice, sitting up and turning to face Clive as he crossed his legs on the bed. He took Clive’s hand and traced little circles with his finger across the other’s palm. The nearby clock tower chimed twice, echoing softly around the various cloisters of the campus.

‘Two o-clock, there.’ Maurice said defiantly, accentuating each syllable with a light tap on Clive’s palm.

‘Yes, precisely, two o-clock!’ Clive retracted his palm and undid the top two buttons on his shirt before yawning silently, like a cat. ‘Come now, Maurice, we have lectures tomorrow and _ some _ of us actually have to study, you know!’ He flopped down horizontally and curled his toes, closing his eyes. 

Maurice blinked.

‘Clive…’ he said softly

‘What?’

‘Have you… never stayed up the whole night before?’ Maurice continued, staring intently at the resting Clive.

The young man in question opened his eyes in surprise, his cheeks colouring just enough for Maurice to notice.

‘You haven’t have you!’

‘So what if I haven’t…’ 

Maurice burst out laughing.

‘You really are a baby!’ he chortled, taking Clive by surprise when he pounced on him, tickling his whole body until he was begging for mercy.

‘MAURICE PLEASE! PLEASE!’ He squealed, wiggling from side to side in a desperate attempt to escape, but to no avail.

‘Shhhhhhh! You need to be quiet Clive, quiet!’ Maurice straddled Clive and tickled him even more. Clive’s crisp, white shirt had come untucked and Maurice seized the opportunity to reach beneath it and properly tickle under his armpits until Clive was a writhing and weeping mess.

‘I never knew you were ticklish, Durham…’ Maurice panted, smiling with pure wickedness as he looked down at his victim. Clive was red in the face, his shirt had ridden up revealing his porcelain white stomach, so slim and delicate. Maurice stopped smiling and went red himself when he saw one, pink nipple poking deliciously out from where the shirt had crumpled up. He tore his glance up to Clive’s flashing blue eyes instead.

‘There I'm awake, are you happy now you pig.’ muttered Clive yanking down his shirt and pushing Maurice off from where he was sitting on him. They both collapsed so they were facing each other on the soft, white bedding.

‘Can you… kiss me again?’

The question was asked so innocently that it took Clive by surprise. He looked into Maurice’s eyes and nodded slowly, pushing himself up and rolling on top so he was now straddling the other. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear as he leant down and kissed Maurice, holding the touch for much longer this time than the chaste kiss he had sprung on him in the cloisters. This time, Maurice deepened the kiss, pulling Clive in even closer by running his brown hands through his hair and lightly up and down the soft, baby hairs on the back of his neck, sending bolts of electricity down Clive’s spine. 

He wasn’t used to being handled like this and for the first time, Clive Durham felt desire begin to pool somewhere deep in his stomach. He licked at Maurice’s lips, begging for entrance and when it was accepted, their tongues danced together like lovers engaged in a waltz, just the right tempo to not send Clive running for the hills. This was still too new, too uncharted for both of them and the illegality made the thrill that much better and worse for Clive all at once. It was Maurice who broke the kiss, a string connecting their two mouths that broke as they parted, panting in sync.

‘ _ More.’  _ Maurice growled like a bear and Clive obeyed by dipping his head back down, their mouths colliding together like asteroid and planet, becoming one. All at once, Clive suddenly became acutely and whole-heartedly aware that Maurice’s hands were  _ everywhere _ : running under his shirt, across his back, holding his hips and playing at the waistband on his trousers, all of it sending Clive stir crazy. His rational mind was pleading for him to put a stop to this but the other, far more animal part sent his own needy fingers fiddling with the buttons on Maurice’s shirt, the gaps allowing him to feel the soft, curly blonde hairs underneath, hairs which he longed to run his hands all over and lick as he explored every inch of Maurice’s sublime figure. He shifted ever so slightly in Maurice’s lap to deepen their ravenous kisses even further, when Maurice moaned in surprise, a sound so sensual and sexual that Clive’s eyes opened wide, the friction of the movement bringing stark attention to quite how  _ hard _ they both were. Clive’s rational mind took full control and he broke the kiss leaving them both gasping for air and acutely aware of how this had gone into dangerous territory. 

Maurice noticed the wild look of Clive; how his dark hair was mussed up and his lips were swollen and red in contrast to his pale skin and his eyes were bright and wide. He looked divine, sat on top of Maurice; his pale collar bone exposed from where his shirt had slipped off one shoulder. Maurice had a sudden image of how he could litter that collar bone with his own marks, how he would kiss it and leave bruises all over Clive’s body…

‘I think… I think this is…’ His chest rapidly rose and fell, ‘...quite enough for tonight…’ Clive continued, bringing both of his shaking hands up to comb through Maurice’s messy hair. The motion calmed him down, and Maurice was thankful for these caresses as his pounding heart began to slow, bringing his raging situation back to earth. 

‘Me too…’ was all Maurice could respond and he breathed out a shaky sigh as Clive stood up and removed his trousers so that he was left in his underwear before diving quickly underneath the mountainous duvet. Even in the British summer-night heat, did Clive still sleep with far too much soft bedding…

Maurice did the same and slid next to Clive, pulling him close so that he could feel Clive’s soft breaths against his nose. The light was switched off and Maurice kissed the top of the other’s forehead as softly as he could, before going back and leaving little butterfly kisses across his cheeks, using his nose as a bridge as if he was the sun studding Clive with freckles. 

‘Goodnight my love… A thousand times goodnight.’ He heard Clive whisper with a yawn in the darkness, and Maurice’s heart shuddered with happiness when Clive kissed his nose softly, and laced their hands together, bringing them up in line with their faces on the pillow. They fell asleep like that: hands joined, breathing silently in sync as the moon finally fell asleep also...


End file.
